


Save a Bike, Ride a Jaqen

by ewinofthelake



Series: The Deadly Duo in Time [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bikers, Bronn has a potty mouth, Concerts, F/M, Leather, Motorcycle Sex, Outdoor Sex, Past Character Death, Piercings, Rock and Roll, Romance, Shameless Smut, Sunset Strip, Tattoos, responsible drinking and irresponsible tonguing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewinofthelake/pseuds/ewinofthelake
Summary: Los Angeles, 1986.The Sunset Strip music scene is at its peak.Arya is in for the ride of her life.





	Save a Bike, Ride a Jaqen

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the fluffiness of this silly smutty sorta romance :D because the next Deadly Duo story will require one of the Archive warnings (Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage) (edit: nope, it's not the next one; I'll edit the notes again when I post it)
> 
> English is not my first language and I have no beta.  
> ASoIaF characters belong to George R. R. Martin.  
> Photo credit to the owners.

~ a ~ r ~ y ~ a ~

After downing the last sip of her Mudslide, Arya wiped her lips with a napkin and touched up her lipstick. She was so tired that she could feel her head pounding, and Tyene almost hadn't let her order her favourite cocktail, but she insisted on just being jet-lagged.

The girls were sitting in a corner booth at the Whisky a Go Go, waiting for the band to start playing, and certainly Arya would never have admitted not feeling 100%. There was so much to see, so much to do, and she didn't want to go to bed already.

She had just moved to L.A. from the UK for her new job. She was presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one you could simply not refuse, and within a week she had packed all her worldly possessions – which were very few because material things had never been her thing – and said goodbye to her large and quite noisy family, a joyously dysfunctional pack of siblings and parents and dogs, a pack that she had always unconditionally loved and that she missed like the Seven hells already. And there she was, on the other side of the planet, chasing her dreams with her newly-found childhood friend who had moved to the city for a while now but had not been very lucky so far.

This was possibly the only night Arya could totally devote to pleasure. The next night she was to start her job. When the new guitar hero of Southern California was looking for a personal assistant, his English father came up with her name because of her short but impressive (although not much lucrative) career in London's music scene, and the position was hers right away. Over the following weekends, the guitarist would hit all the hottest clubs on the Sunset Strip with his band, and Arya was to coordinate his whereabouts and make sure that all his requests were met. She felt this job was the start of something big, and she was determined to make it work and make the best out of the experience.

Tyene, on the other hand, was having the time of her life every night. Or so she wanted to believe. She just wanted to have fun in her own way; on that particular night, this meant checking out all the guys who were passing by their booth, looking for one she told Arya she had casually met at the bar a few nights before. Some foreign hottie with crazy hair, she called him.

"I feel my luck is finally turning, babe!" Tyene's eyes were fixed on the crowd in front of them as she spoke, and Arya could only watch as her friend stood up abruptly and went chasing the poor fool predestined to be her prey for the night, it seemed.

 _Gods, we have barely started to catch up after not seeing each other for ages, and she ditches me like this._ She hadn't even finished her thought that Tyene had already gotten lost in the crowd.

Arya sat alone for a bit, scanning the people around her, listening to the pre-show music, and feeling... bored. She decided she could very well have some fun too. And just like that, she gathered her things and went to join her AWOL friend on the packed dance floor.

As soon as she started to navigate through the crowd, someone bumped into her. She was ready to vent her frustration on the unfortunate person, when said person turned towards her and locked eyes with her.

The DJ chose that moment to play Mötley Crüe's "Looks That Kill."

_Oh, if looks could fuck too._

Arya was not the kind of girl who liked to sleep around, but, for fuck's sake!, she was twenty-three and she had every right to have fun if she wanted to. And right now, standing right in front of her was Mr. Sex on Legs, fully clad in black leather.

It wasn't his physical appearance – he was quite the regular guy actually, except for his long straight hair, which was red on one side and white on the other. But, hello!, Sunset Strip, the Eighties: what did you expect? He was taller than her, but again that was no strange thing at all, given her pocket-sized frame. He looked like someone who had seen much in his life; from his features she could tell he was older than her, but _again_ that guy who saved her from that horde of drunken little shits when she went hiking in Scotland the year before was much older. And way taller. And– _That's not the point! Concentrate, Arya!_

What was so striking in him was the mysterious glint in his eyes, and she couldn't help keeping her gaze fixed on them. His clear, big eyes. Under the dim lights of the club she couldn't quite make out their colour, but she was determined to find out.

When she heard him clear his throat, she was shaken out of her stupor. And she realised she must have looked like one of those empty-brained bimbos who always crowded the clubs on the Strip.

She was just about to open her mouth to break the awkward silence between them, when– "Jaqen! There you are, sweetling!" Tyene's syrupy voice squealed in the distance.

_Of course she knows all the hot guys._

A moment later, Tyene came into view, another leather-clad guy at her side. "Oh, Arya, you're here too!"

Arya just snorted. And Jaqen... – _Oh, Jaqen,_ she mentally sighed – ...he looked absolutely uninterested in the two intruders.

"Arya," he purred as he bowed his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I am most pleased to make your acquaintance."

Those eyes, and now that voice.

And _that accent._

 _Great,_ she thought with dismay. _Must be the foreign hottie with crazy hair. This is going to be so much fun._

Before long, they were all seated at the tufted booth closest to the stage. And Arya found out she was a sucker for an accent. Jaqen's accent. There was a hint of German in there – a harsh language, she always thought. But when he spoke... his deep, warm voice rolled off his tongue like the sweetest honey.

The other guy, whose voice was not as pleasant, turned out to be Jaqen's friend, Bronn. He was responsible for the way they were seated – Tyene next to him on one side of the booth, Arya next to Jaqen on the other – and for the cocktails that materialised at warp speed in front of them.

"Bees Knees to honour the lasses," he pointed with his open palm to the cocktail glasses. He must have considered their British accent and perhaps he was trying to be fun.

_Why does everybody think we all love gin?_

Thank the Gods, the show started soon after. And Arya realised she already had enough alcohol for the night. She thought about the pounding in her head, and decided that faking a real headache was the best solution. She sipped at her drink just once, to show some sympathy towards this Bronn guy, who seemed quite a good bloke after all – and who looked quite busy trying to get in Tyene's pants and probably had already forgotten about the drinks anyhow.

Both Tyene and Bronn soon turned towards the stage to watch the band play, and Arya let her gaze wander to her side.

Jaqen smiled disarmingly.

She wrapped her arms around herself, oblivious to the craving she felt – craving to be touched. Her subconscious did the work; lazily, she began rubbing the bare skin of her upper arms with her hands.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "How is your headache, lovely girl?"

His voice had been doing _things_ to her since she first heard it. And now that he was so close, she also had to come to terms with his hot breath on her skin, with the warmth radiating from his body and, Gods!, what's with the _lovely girl_ now?

As she struggled to find something appropriate to reply (apparently, even a simple _better_ was too much for Arya's brain to formulate at the moment), she vaguely registered that he hadn't pulled back yet – she vaguely registered that something warm and wet was running on her skin.

_His tongue. It's his tongue!_

Slow and steady, the tip of his tongue was painting intricate patterns right behind her ear. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a moan as that mischievous tongue traced its way down her neck. Other parts of her body started to pound. Because his tongue turned into his lips. And his lips turned into his teeth.

"Jaqen..." She breathed as she managed somehow to lift a hand and rest it on his chest. Touching such a harmless part of his clothed body was enough to amplify her craving, and she imagined herself fisting his shirt, pulling him to her, and crashing her lips to his.

And– "Lovely girl..." She swore he would have let her.

Instead, she gently pushed him away.

When his face was back in her line of sight, she watched him with sadness in her eyes, and before the hint of concern she detected in his own eyes could make her change her mind, with a heavy heart she leaned in to murmur the truth in his ear.

"I want to..." She sighed in defeat. "But I can't."

*

~ j ~ a ~ q ~ e ~ n ~

He swallowed, the addictive taste of her skin fresh on his tongue.

"My friend..." She hesitated. " _My friend_ wants you."

He pulled back, dismayed. He searched her eyes. And sighed. "Then, we will do what must be done."

He reached up to brush a stray hair behind her ear, his subconscious not wanting him to be apart from her skin, it seemed. They stared at each other with embarrassment, until Arya somehow came out of the trance as she grabbed her glass and took a long gulp of her drink.

Jaqen tried to pull himself together. _Natürlich. A lovely girl magnetises your attention and of course she is not only radiant but also honourable and would never betray her friend. Her_ dull _friend. Verdammt!_

For the rest of the show, they sat frozen in an uncomfortable silence.

He couldn't stop looking at her, though.

He was utterly captivated by her presence, her lovely face, her short dark hair, her short... -ness. She was short, that's true, but her petite frame was perfectly balanced. He had never been interested in all those fake boobs and never-ending legs that paraded before him every time he set foot in a club. He wanted more. He wanted depth. And right from the first glance, he had seen something in her, a determination, a will to become a better person, to become _someone._ All this turned him on like crazy.

After the end of the show, Tyene and Bronn turned back still smiling like fools; they had enjoyed it very much, apparently. To keep the mood up, Jaqen tried to start some safe, generic conversation, and he ended up recounting tales about his life as an expat from Germany. Which usually led to–

"You dumb cunt, just admit it, you still don't know shit about measuring length in inches!"

"Forgive me, my lord, for using a different measurement system," Jaqen was grinning. "How very ignorant and European of me."

Bantering with Bronn was always fun.

Her skin though... _Mouthwatering..._ It was calling to him. As soon as he leaned in to ask her about her headache, her fragrant scent assaulted him. And he couldn't help but taste her skin. And the more he tasted, the more he craved. His tongue, his lips, his teeth exploring its silky texture, getting enslaved, then ripped away... _I have to give them back._

When Tyene was distracted by some story Bronn was telling her about riding horses as a kid in his Texas hometown, Jaqen ducked down behind Arya's back so they wouldn't see what his intoxicated mind had decided to do.

He rested his head for a moment on the padded booth seat, contemplating the delightful view and groaning. He silently thanked the Seven New Gods and the Old Gods beyond counting for the crop top she had chosen to wear that night, and quick as a snake he attacked the exposed skin of her lower back with his starved mouth. He was a man lost. He couldn't stay away. And what he would give to just fuck her adorable belly button with his tongue already.

It didn't take long for Tyene to notice that something had disappeared from view – the whole upper part of Jaqen's body, for instance. And Arya must have noticed that her friend noticed, because he felt her back stiffen and– "Jaqen, what in R'hllor's name did you drop back there?" She bellowed in warning over her shoulder.

That was his cue. Fun time was over.

Noting just then the bizarre object lying on the seat beside her purse, he grabbed it and quickly made up his excuse.

"I saw this lighting up," he mumbled as he straightened back up. "I believe you have a missed call, Arya."

It was a cellular phone. With an apologetic look, he made to hand it over to her, but in a flash Tyene reached out and snatched it from his hand. He heard her mutter some curses, and bring up _true friendship,_ and– "And. What. Is. This?" She hissed as she eyed the device with disgust. "It's latest technology, and I thought you were broke!"

As far as he could tell, it was one of those Motorola DynaTAC he saw on some billboard, no doubt _several grand worth_ of latest technology.

Arya looked absolutely stunned.

"That's part of my new job," she frowned. "If only you had listened to me instead of chasing guys all night, I was about to show you the perks of it – well, if you consider a perk being forced to walk around with a contraption heavier than a brick and be on call anytime your boss tells you so."

But Tyene was having none of it. "You know that I _truly_ am broke, and all you can think about are your cool job and your fancy trinkets!"

 _That bitch!_ Anger and something else in his eyes, Jaqen just wanted to toss his awful cocktail at her face to shut her up.

He felt so stupid for wasting his generosity on her – the night he had bought her a drink, he was buying drinks to anyone he came across at the bar after all, to celebrate the raise he just got.

 _But... Perhaps I would not have met my lovely girl if it was not for the insufferable bitch. My lovely girl..._ He stole a glance at Arya, his eyes now full of adoration. And suddenly he realised– _Since when am I calling her_ mine?

"This thing has really gone off the rails." Arya was irritated beyond limit now. "I have better things to do with my time than sit here and listen to such bullshit."

She grabbed her things, stood up, and stormed out of the club.

Jaqen's eyes were on her the whole time, Tyene's voice still yelling insults at her.

*

~ a ~ r ~ y ~ a ~

The next night, Arya was back at the Whisky for her first day of work. Her mother would hardly call it _working,_ but her mother – despite the deep affection she had for all her children – would also chastise Arya and her beloved brother Jon for their every single choice, after all.

Towards the end of the show, Arya was standing at the side of the stage, watching her boss inflame the audience, when someone bumped into her. Again.

_Jaqen._

She was so angry the night before when she left. On her way back home, she cursed herself for not even asking him his phone number, but thankfully – from what she understood – on the Sunset Strip you wouldn't have to wait long before running into the same person again.

"What are you doing here?" It was a restricted area where only AAA pass holders were allowed.

"What are _you_ doing here?" She felt goosebumps rising on her skin when he spoke. The music was loud and forced them to lean in closely to hear one another, and she didn't expect his proximity to affect her so much. _Again._

"I'm working. That's my new boss over there," she pointed to the centre of the stage. "It's what I was supposed to tell Tyene yesterday."

Mentioning her friend's name left a bad taste in her mouth.

Tyene had treated her like a spoiled brat. They hadn't seen each other for years, that's true, but Arya still cared a lot for her childhood friend. Or so she thought.

Jaqen must have noticed the flicker of hurt in her eyes. "I am sorry for what I did."

"Don't be," she cut him off, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

"I wanted to follow you, but you looked so angry I thought you needed some space. And..." He sighed dramatically. "I was afraid you would beat me up with that phone of yours."

This finally put a smile on her face.

"Arya, I am serious now. On my next night off, I would have roamed all the clubs looking for you. Thank the Many-Faced God, it is not impossible to meet again on the Sunset Strip."

His words warmed her heart. And she relished the way her name resonated on his lips. She didn't even have to explain to him how to pronounce it – _two syllables, not three,_ she always needed to tell anyone. He just _knew._ And he made it sound so natural. _Must be the German accent._

As if remembering something, he leaned in again. "Where is the brick tonight?"

"The _what?_ "

His mouth curved up into a smile. "The phone."

"Oh, no phone tonight." She was giggling as she explained. "If Boss needs me, he can reach me with his voice just fine, and for today my duties are done once the show is over."

"Mine as well."

"What do you mean?" A security guy she briefly talked to before the show passed by and eyed them suspiciously. "Hey, you know you shouldn't be here by the way."

"Ah, yesterday I had something to tell you too," he winked at her. "I am working as well."

"Doing what? Distracting the groupies from my boss so after the gig he can go straight home to the wifey?" She teased him.

"Security," he said with a smirk plastered on his outrageously tempting lips.

 _Lips that were on my skin yesterday,_ she contemplated as a shiver ran down her spine.

"And honestly..." He was serious once again. "There is only one person I would like to distract."

He looked deeply into her eyes. _Oh, Gods,_ those liquid eyes of his... The rotating lights stopped on his face long enough for her to spot their colour – a pale blue like the ocean she finally bathed in just a few hours before.

They talked throughout the last few songs of the show. She told him about her new life in L.A., and he told her about his life before the Whisky.

He was a member of a motorcycle club. Soon he discovered that the other members were nothing short of a gang: they were involved in drug dealing and prostitution, practised extortion, trafficked in stolen goods... He didn't care about that crap; he just wanted to feel the wind on his face and see breathtaking places. They made him do things he regretted, and the day he was almost sent to jail he decided he was done. The only thing he kept from his old life was his much loved custom motorcycle.

"And now I work security," he concluded. "They need the muscles, and I need the money."

"Muscles, you say?" Arya arched an eyebrow. "I don't see much of them."

"Lovely girl, all the muscles I need are in here," he tapped his finger against his temple. "I am a martial artist. When I am working at the club, I am forbidden to put my knowledge into practice, but the training made me ridiculously strong, and that is useful."

At the _lovely girl,_ she was reduced to speechlessness just like the night before; and he seemed to be content just to be by her side, so they watched the last song in silence.

Standing so close to him, more flashes of the night before flickered in her mind.

She recalled the strong smell of leather assaulting her senses when she first leaned in to him – it was in his hair, his shirt, everywhere; and it was intoxicating. And how she was so flustered when she realised he was attacking the skin along her spine with his mouth – _oh, the wonders he can do with his tongue._ And now that he was standing beside her, with his arms crossed over his chest, she couldn't help staring at his hands – _and the Gods know what he can do with those fingers._

As the house lights came up, the band left the stage in a roar of clapping and cheering, and Hanoi Rocks' "Until I Get You" started to play in the background.

"I don't know if I should tell you this," Arya blurted out. "I mean, I don't know what happened after I left yesterday, but–"

"I left right after you," Jaqen interrupted her. "I was not interested. Bronn told me the girl was sex-crazed, she blew him under the table, and–"

She gave him a look.

"Hells, I know. He is like a brother to me, despite his cocksucking ways at times and his crappy taste in liquors–"

She chuckled remembering the Bees Knees.

"But when it comes to women... He likes to call himself _a sellsword,_ because he moves from one to the next, delivering his services _with his sword._ Well, she ended up spending the night at his place; she just wanted to get laid, did not care by whom, and..." He hesitated. "She was _not_ such a good lay."

At this, Arya just cracked up laughing.

"Bronn's words, not mine," he was grinning as well. "But go on, tell me, I am sorry I interrupted you."

"Oh. Right. Well..." Mustering all her bravery, she leaned in to whisper in his ear the same way he did the night before. "I masturbated all night thinking about your tongue."

A heavy silence fell upon them as she pulled back to watch his reaction.

She could see him swallowing, his jaw clenching. His eyes were dark, his usual smirk gone. Nervously, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, afraid he was about to turn and leave. _Good job, Arya. Scare the good ones away with your straightforward, dirty mouth._

She lowered her gaze, ready to accept defeat.

Until...

She felt his hand sliding up her neck, tilting her head up.

His thumb rubbing her mouth, releasing her battered lip.

She felt his clear, big eyes piercing hers.

And his tongue inside her mouth, roughly searching for hers.

The next thing she knew, they were outside, in the staff parking lot, sitting on his motorcycle. He was straddling the seat, and she was straddling him, and they were all over each other, making out like horny teenagers.

"Let's get away from here," she whispered against his lips, dizzy with want. But stayed where she was.

"Absofuckinglutely," he growled as he started the bike; and as the engine roared to life, he pressed his lips to hers in a last scorching kiss.

The wind was blowing against her back as they rode down the Strip, chilling her skin. She longed for his warmth; and she couldn't care less about the whoops and hollers coming from the people walking along the Boulevard. She couldn't stay away from his skin.

As he weaved through the traffic, she rained wet, passionate kisses down his neck, her hand snaking down the front of his pants.

She burned to lay him down and strip him naked. Have him under her. _Inside_ her.

Jaqen was moaning. "You need to stop, lovely girl, or we are going to crash."

Arya was running her teeth along the shell of his ear. "I think _you_ need to stop."

He smirked.

And turned into a side street.

As they rode on, the street lights were getting sparser, the hustle and bustle of the Strip further and further away, and soon they reached the hills overlooking the city.

The view was breathtaking.

He stopped the bike in a quiet and secluded spot beside a large tree and turned the engine off. The moon and stars above them the only light shining in the dark. Her next words the only sound that broke the stillness of the night.

"Are you going to fuck me on the bike?"

*

~ j ~ a ~ q ~ e ~ n ~

His lovely, _wild_ girl and her naughty mind.

When he spotted her at the club earlier that night, his heart burst with happiness. And of course he decided straight away to go and bump into her like the night before – intentionally, this time.

Since her revelation after the show, his blood had retreated from every part of his body to his groin. And she was not making things easy for him.

He wanted so much to just stop the bike in some shadowy alley and lay her down on the gas tank. Just have her right there and then.

But no. As they rode on, he realised they were so close to his special spot. And all of a sudden he felt it was right to show it to her. He had never taken anyone there. No one. Since...

No, he wouldn't go there now. It was another life. And he was nothing but a green boy just landed from another continent, a different name on his passport and so many dreams in his suitcase.

He almost spilled everything when he mentioned quitting the MC, but he felt like a punch in the gut stole his breath; he just couldn't utter the words.

The fateful day he came home to all that blood... _So much blood_ – it was on their bed, her clothes, everywhere; and the sirens hot on his heels, and the rush to the safe house...

No, he wouldn't go there.

_Lya is dead._

And so was Rhay.

_I will tell you one day, süßes Mädchen, I will. But... Not today._

Arya was framing his face with her hands. Looking straight in her eyes, he tilted his head just a fraction to brush the sweetest kiss on her wrist, and proceeded to tell her exactly what he wanted to do to her.

How exactly he wanted to fuck her.

On the bike, yes. Against the tree.

In his bed.

Later.

"If you let me."

His voice was husky with longing.

He was mesmerised as he watched how she reacted to his words – her breathing ragged, her pupils dilating... _So lovely._

Without warning, she crashed her lips to his. The feel of her teeth nipping at his lower lip was enough to send a thrill straight to his cock. Bad, bad idea wearing those tight leather pants. If only he had known that he would meet her.

He was frantic as she sucked on his tongue. His arms surrounded her, his hands going down her neck and stopping between her shoulder blades, holding her, as his lips moved down her chin, down to her throat, her collarbone... He ached to taste her nipples.

One of his hands found its way under her shirt, slowly went to unclasp her strapless bra, and finally, finally smothered one of her breasts. He felt something there, and when he realised what it must be, the corners of his lips quirked upwards, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes.

He gently coaxed her to lean back until her forearms rested on the gas tank. The chaste silk shirt she had chosen to wear that night had to go. And patience was out of the question at that point. He just ripped it open.

"Jaqen!" She whisper-yelled at him. "That was a Versace!"

"Oh, lovely, _whiny_ girl, you can wear my jacket if you are cold," he murmured distractedly as he devoured her breasts with his eyes.

Something glittered in the dark.

He was right.

It was a nipple ring.

He looked up at her, brushing a finger against it. "This is the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

They both grinned.

He pulled her back against him and trailed hot, savage kisses down her neck and chest, before running his tongue around her nipple, her pierced nipple, grazing it with his teeth, and finally, _finally_ sucking it into his mouth.

Arya was gripping his hair, moaning and pulling and... They were just getting started.

He took his time sliding his hands up the velvety skin of her thighs. He reached around to grab her ass possessively, pushing her skirt out of the way in the process, and when he grazed her G-string – _Gods, she will be the death of me_ – it didn't take long for him to decide what to do; once again, the sound of fabric ripping echoed in the night.

She gasped in surprise but couldn't hide her amusement this time.

Because she caught him pocketing the garment.

"And what should I wear now down there if I'm cold?"

Both his hands were back on her thighs. "Cold? A girl lies," he purred as he sinfully traced his fingers up towards her centre. "I can feel your heat from here."

And he could smell it as well. The sudden thought of being the cause of her arousal made his cock twitch. Those damned leather pants. Bad, _bad_ idea. He shifted uncomfortably on the motorcycle seat with a grunt.

 _Gods, she will_ definitely _be the death of me._

When he reached her entrance, her fingers dug into his shoulders and she squirmed against his hand, a shaky breath escaping her lips.

And he couldn't help groaning in her ear. "As I expected."

She was so wet that his finger slid inside her effortlessly.

She melted into him and gripped his hair again, tighter, guiding his face to hers for one more desperate kiss. One of her hands reached down to grab the bulge in his pants. He could feel her restlessness, and he moaned in her mouth with indecent abandon when he felt both of her hands on him, tugging at his pants until–

"Seven hells, a man goes commando," she mocked him, gasping for breath after breaking the kiss. There was mirth in her eyes. "You're certainly not cold down there, I guess."

He just smirked.

Licking her lips, she wrapped her fingers around his erection; and when she began to stroke him, he found out he couldn't smirk anymore – he could only quiver.

That, and slip a second finger inside her. He had showed her his special spot; now he had every intention of finding hers.

Very soon, she was reduced to a whimpering mess. "Wonders... Doing wonders... I knew, oh, I knew!"

Her incoherent words puzzled him, but in that moment what concerned him the most was something else entirely – committing to memory her lovely face painted with pleasure.

"Need you now..." She shifted her hips, lining up his cock against her slit.

"Arya, wait..." They didn't even talk about–

"I'm on the pill, and I need you," she rasped in frustration. "Now!"

His hands flew to her hips as she lifted herself up and sank down onto his cock with a shuddering sigh.

Her eyes widened. And Jaqen could only stare in wonder at his sweet girl.

She was clutching his shoulders, riding him. Slowly. Grinding down on him hard. _So,_ so _lovely._

He watched his cock sliding in and out of her – his body sliding between her legs – and lost himself in the feeling of her tightness clenching around him.

It was the sweetest torture.

She had been driving him over the edge since the night before, and he didn't know how much longer he could last. He needed to move.

He scooped her up, hooking her legs around his waist as he stood, pushing himself deep inside her. On his next thrust, he had her pinned against the tree.

"Oh, wow!" She almost choked with amazement.

And he couldn't help chuckling with delight. "Ridiculously strong, remember?"

"As much as– Ah..." He resumed his movements. "As much as I love the music scene, don't you think all this strength is wasted at the club?"

"I would like to open my own gym one day..." He planted a kiss on the tip of her lovely nose. "Get to train celebrities..." He thrust into her deeply. "Make piles of money..." He chuckled again. "The American dream, no?"

He pulled out and plunged back in again and again.

 _And I want you in my dream with me,_ he thought with fondness. _Lovely girl... What are you doing to me?_

"Ow!" Her cry of pain startled him out of his thoughts. He froze.

"Gods, Arya! Did I hurt you?"

"No! No... It's... the tree," she mumbled. "I guess wearing this silly shirt tonight was really a bad idea." She was still wearing her torn silk shirt, but the thin material obviously couldn't shield her back from the rough surface of the wood.

"Come." He gathered her in his arms and helped her back to her feet.

They both sighed when he slipped out of her.

"Here," he shrugged his leather jacket off and laid it out on the grass. "Sit down and let me look."

"I'm fine, Jaqen." She cupped his cheek, smiling softly.

He smiled back and covered her hand with his.

"But..." She bit her lip, throwing a casual look at his jacket. "We could... just..."

The stars twinkled in her eyes. Grey eyes. Lovely eyes. _Hungry_ eyes.

It was his turn to crash his lips to hers.

Within moments, she was lying on his jacket and he was back inside her heat.

"I want to feel your skin," she breathed against his neck as her small hands tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. They had been in such a rush that he forgot she was pretty much naked and he was still almost fully dressed.

He moved back slightly so she could push it over his head, and–

"No way! _This_ is the sexiest thing I've ever seen!"

Right.

He also forgot about his tattoo.

Half of his chest was inked with a majestic dragon, grey scaled, an androgynous figure with long silver hair riding it, naked.

Raking her nails down his chest, she observed the intricacy of the design with more fascination than he did her piercing. And shamelessly rose to lick his coloured nipple. Oh, if only she could have been with him at the tattoo parlour that day to soothe the pain with her tongue.

"There are more, and I will show them all to you, but right now– Oh, Arya..." He dropped his head and gritted his teeth as her hips rolled under him and her hands slid down to grope his ass.

Right now, all he wanted was to feel her walls closing around him.

All he wanted was to feel his sweet girl coming around his cock.

But the new position wasn't helping him at all.

The forced interruption after the tree incident had let him regain his concentration. But how could he withstand the sight of her, wantonly splayed out under him and, Gods!, moaning his name like that...

"Jaqen!"

He buried himself inside her one more time before he came undone.

*

~ a ~ r ~ y ~ a ~

The moment his release flowed into her, she tightened her arms around him, savouring the feel of his flesh pressing against her. His body was lean, and hard, and Seven hells he was _big._

Soon she realised he was nuzzling his nose against her neck, muttering harsh-sounding words she couldn't understand until–

"Hey," she whispered softly as she ran her fingers through his hair, forcing him to look up at her. He was more like _hiding his face_ against her neck, and now she understood why.

"Forgive me." His voice quavered. "Please."

"I take it that you did _not_ masturbate all night, uh?" With her playful tone, she succeeded in getting a smile out of his lips.

"No, lovely, _evil_ girl, I did not." His tone matched hers as he explained. "Forgive the terrible finale of my performance." He sighed. "You make me feel like a green boy all over again."

He was still half hard when he slipped out of her; she felt his seed trickling down her thighs, and couldn't help the unbidden moan that escaped her lips.

"We must take care of you." His tone was all business now. "You did not come."

She couldn't count how many times she _almost_ got there. But– "It's... not easy for me, you know, the... first time with someone new... _Not_ that I had lots of... someones... enough to make a statistic, but–"

"Unacceptable," he interrupted her babbling, shaking his head. "This is unacceptable."

He seemed to be pondering the matter, until a smirk teased the corner of his mouth.

"I believe my tongue has duties now."

A rush of heat flooded her body, and she silently thanked the darkness for altering the colours because a violent blush must have tinted her cheeks. She quickly stopped her train of thought and scolded herself. _After all the things you have done with him, this is your reaction?_

He stood on his knees and backed away a foot or two, tucking himself back into his pants – she had his jacket under her and he did not, after all; and if he was going to do what she thought he would do, having the grass scratching your prick could become quite an inconvenience, she mused.

The thought of his jacket sent sparks straight to her core. It was still warm when she lay down on it. And the scent... Completely surrounded by his scent, she realised it was more than just leather. It was a rich, dark scent of leather and spices and him, and she thought she could come from that alone. She would undoubtedly need to wear it on their way back because her shirt was in rags (not that she was complaining) and she was picturing ways to keep it afterwards and wear it on her lonely nights and–

"So, where is John?" His deep, warm voice interrupted her musings.

 _John?_ Our _Jon?_

He was kneeling between her legs, slowly running his hands up and down her thighs. At her puzzled expression, he tried again. "I am sorry. James, then."

_James? As in aunt Brinny's Jaime?_

It was getting ridiculous.

"Jaqen, what are you even talking about?"

When she spoke his name, realisation hit them both.

She forgot the grooming session she underwent earlier that day, before going to the beach – and after waking up with her hand in her panties and his name on her lips.

She had shaved her curls completely off... except for a slim fishhook-shaped line.

The letter J.

"Oh." His usual smirk turned into a full grin. " _Oh._ " He licked his lips. "My lovely, _wicked_ girl." And greedily his mouth descended between her legs.

Several curse words and hair pulls later, Jaqen's head resurfaced.

Arya's lips were parted, and her heart was racing.

"Seven hells," she panted, "what was that?"

He chuckled. " _That,_ I believe, was what we call _Kommen._ "

He leaned forward – just in time to dodge her punch – and pressed a kiss to her belly. His lips lingered on her, and she giggled from the feeling of his stubble running back and forth against her skin.

Suddenly, lying in the grass with him on top, half a world away from home, everything made sense.

The life she chose would always take her far away from home – one day here, one day there, one experience after the other. All this transience needed balance, and what if Jaqen was her balance? Could he? Because hells be damned she didn't want him to be just another experience. _I don't want this to end._

He was intent on French kissing her belly button, his hands kneading her hips and, Gods!, was it even possible to groan with an accent?

"Jaqen," she breathed.

He lifted his head, his lips swollen and glistening.

"I..." She grabbed his cheek and looked into his eyes.

He gazed at her in awe, and slowly, slowly he reached up and kissed her on the lips, slowly tasting her, slowly letting her taste herself, and him, until she was breathless again.

He propped his head up on his elbow and studied her face intently.

"So... Was my tongue as you imagined?"

A light breeze stirred the leaves of the tree and ruffled his hair.

Arya watched his lips curving into a devilish grin.

"Oh, shut up and lick me again!"

She was smiling as she grabbed red locks in one hand and white in the other and pushed his head down to her folds once more.

*

Several years later...

~ b ~ r ~ o ~ n ~ n ~

Despite the bad lay, Bronn continued to date Tyene for a while, thus distancing himself from Jaqen who had made it clear he wasn't eager to see her, like, ever again.

He was the first to book an intercontinental flight though when he got a call from his old friend one day. And he happily went to meet him up at the housewarming party Jaqen and Arya threw at their brand new mansion, the one in Whatsitsname... That posh region of France.

Over the years, he got word that things had gotten serious between the two – and thank fuck, the jerry had decided to cut off that ridiculous red-and-white hair of his.

But he was not prepared for the magnificence that appeared before his eyes when the taxi entered the gate and proceeded up the driveway that led to the house.

 _Wow, look at that! The fucker went a long way since– Oh, no._ He could hear it as soon as he stepped out of the car and walked to the massive front door. _Oh, please, no._

It was one of those cheesy FireHouse classics he plain hated, "When I Look Into Your Eyes." He couldn't be present that day, but they later told him it was the lovebirds' wedding song.

Bronn just shook his head, a genuine smile forming on his lips as he reached out for the door handle. _There's no cure for being a dumb cunt._

**Author's Note:**

> Mudslide is basically vodka and Baileys; Bees Knees, gin and honey.
> 
> Arya's boss is not Slash because in 1986 he didn't need a personal assistant yet, but I thought about him as I wrote because his father's actually from England.
> 
> Jaqen and Bronn bantering about inches was a lame excuse to include a line from [this adorable video](https://youtu.be/ndSoj8XPUMQ) :D
> 
> Arya's phone is indeed a (bulky and heavy) Motorola DynaTAC; the first model released in 1984 was priced at approx 4,000 dollars, equivalent to approx 10,000 today's dollars.
> 
> Absofuckinglutely courtesy of Mr. Big – Sex and the City.
> 
> California has a motorcycle helmet law only since 1992. Please, always wear a helmet. And a condom. Those were wild, wild years.
> 
> *
> 
> If you like modern AUs, check [my drabble collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190776) :)


End file.
